Day 32,850
by NebThauDragmire
Summary: AU, SirrusCentric 32,850 days is a long, long time.


-1**A/N: I was bitten by the tragedy bug again. This is yet another AU piece. I thought, "What if Atrus never went back to the prison ages? What if Sirrus was left on Spire?" Thus, this fanfic rolled out. Enjoy, tragedy lovers.**

Day 32,850

_I have never lost track of the days. Not once. It seems that the moon's rising and falling is the only stable thing I can hold on to. 32,850 days. . . exactly ninety years. Ninety years in this kingdom of clouds and crystal. Eighty years since I had exhausted any hope of escape. There isn't a Myst linking book here. It tumbled down and was lost in the green star that illuminates the lower cloud layers. Since then every day has passed much like the last._

_I. . . think that this Age may end soon. For the past three years I have noticed odd red swirls making their way across the star's surface. It has not had an effect on Spire as a whole, but I believe that might end. I spend much of my time observing it now, counting the streaks and swirls, watching them increase by the year. My home is falling apart._

_Home. . . how strange a word it is. Stranger still is the fact that I refer to this palace of rock as "home". Eighty years ago I would have scoffed at the idea. But such a long time weathers on the soul, much as the wind weathers the stone upon which I sit._

_There was a time when I looked back on my life and was proud. Then, when I looked back and wept. Now, there is only the grim acceptance of what I have done, all the people who have died by my hands. I find myself unable to hate, unable to laugh, unable to cry, unable to feel. I merely exist now. I've existed for a long time._

_I will be one-hundred and seventeen years next month. I feel every year pressing down on my body, my mind. No one ever explained to me how long I would live, being one-eighth D'ni, four-eighths Rivenese, and three-eighths human. I know nothing of the D'ni, so I could not even estimate._

_I tried to remain healthy. I was careful not to overexert myself, mentally or physically. But it seems that age itself is an illness, one that has no cure. It does terrible things to the mind. There are whole periods of my life that I cannot remember. I remember. . . my father and mother. We lived on an island, with Anna. But . . . she died when I was young. I had. . . I had a brother. I remember him. . . what was his name?_

_Dear god, I can't remember my brother's name._

_I have to think. . . back, far back. . . block out the faces of the dead, the dying. . . block out their screams. . ._

_Achenar. His name is Achenar. My older brother by three years._

_He's. . . on Haven. He was trapped on Haven. He turned one-hundred and twenty a few months ago. Is he still alive? Did he survive, as I did? I remember looking at the linking panel. There was a ship stuck upright in the water. There was a jungle in the distance. Yes, Achenar is still alive. He was always well suited to survival in nature._

_The fact that I forgot his name. . . how could I forget him?_

_What else have I forgotten?_

_Father. . . what was his name? Mother's name? The name of the island? I remember none of it. I try and I try, but nothing appears._

_But I remember all the names of the dead. Every person, every Age. I remember. . . I remember Narayan. Saavedro, Tamra._

_But my family is lost._

_Terror's icy grip clutches my heart, threatening to rob me of anything I have left. But what do I have left? Nightmare and hazy memories._

_Does anyone still remember me?_

_Achenar. . . Mother. . . Father. . . anyone. . ._

_Please. . . anyone. . ._

_Please. . ._

She looked out across the empty space, taking in what had once been the rock-ship network that Sirrus had built. Could he still be out there? This note was dated five years ago, so it wasn't likely, but. . .

"Yeesha. . ." said a low voice, accompanied by a hand on her shoulder, "It's time to go."

"We can't!" she half shouted, clutching the note in her hand, "What if he's still out there?"

"Yeesha. . . dearest sister. . . he's gone. . ."

"He was our brother, Achenar," she whispered on the edge of tears, "Can we really give up so easily?"

"Yes."

Yeesha turned to him, ready to launch in a vicious tirade, but Achenar stopped her.

"If Sirrus wanted to be found," he said, "He would have been here."

Yeesha nodded mutely, giving the note to him as she made her way back to the elevator.

"Sirrus," Achenar murmured, scanning the note, "You were never forgotten. . . not in all 32,850 days."


End file.
